


Determination to Live

by dooklarue



Category: Undertale
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Depression, EXPLICIT SELF HARM, Gen, ambiguous ending, artistic liberties with regard to monster anatomy, sort of not really but idk what else to call it, tagged as major character death because that's closest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dooklarue/pseuds/dooklarue
Summary: Alphys turns to an all-too-familiar coping mechanism, but this time she pushes it too far.





	Determination to Live

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning I wrote this when I was depressed so it's.. probably tough to read. Please be careful, and don't read it if you think it might be too upsetting for you.

Alphys was tired. Not physically- well, not just physically. She was tired of everything, of what she'd done and what she couldn't do, of the lies she'd told to keep everything under wraps. If all she needed were a good night's sleep, she could splash her face in cold water, chug an energy drink and keep on going despite it all. To power past this sort of tired, she wanted something a bit harsher.

That's why she found herself sitting on the floor in her lab, rocking back and forth, clutching a razor she'd found. This wasn't new to her; she'd been finding ways to hurt herself since she'd first taken her own claws to her wrist in middle school, but it had only escalated since then. Every time she needed to cut just a bit deeper, see a little bit more blood, just to keep a stable front.

Three slices to the wrist, this time. The first quick and shallow, the second much slower and harder, and the third an incredibly unhappy medium between them. She sighed, her whole body shaking with the exhale, as she watched the blood drip down her arm. Though all her instincts told her that this should be setting off panic bells, she had come to find it soothing. The pain, the blood, they all reminded her that _she was here and she was real and she'd fucked up but now she was suffering for it and at least that was a start, right_? Of course, she knew in the back of her head that this misery wasn't actually doing anyone any good, but it felt like justice enough to soothe her own self-loathing for a few minutes.

She shut her eyes for a moment, relieved in a sick sort of way, but they snapped open as she felt the blood start to coalesce on her skin. She normally let it clot and dry in the open air, but this was something different. It was getting heavy, thick, like powder dissolved into liquid. Dust. She let out a strangled cry as she realized what was happening. She hadn't meant to die, not really, not actively, but- the trauma she inflicted on her body, coupled with the fact that her soul possessed very little will to live, it was plenty to kill her.

For a few moments, she entertained the possibility of letting it happen, just dying here in a dark corner of the lab. Then she remembered her charges, not just what she'd done to them, but what they would do without her. As much as she figured they must hate her, she had a responsibility to look after them now, and she couldn't do much as a pile of dust and blood.

But she was dying. The acknowledgment of her responsibilities did a little bit to slow the dust, but it was a band-aid solution, not enough to fortify a soul that didn't want to live. She was dying. Clutching her injured arm, she tried to run, but ultimately ended up staggering toward the refrigerator where she kept samples. She was hurt and afraid- oh, stars, was she terrified- but it was all she had now.

She managed to make it there and find the vial she was looking for. Her hands trembled so badly that she splattered the floor with red from both her wrists and the chemical as she prepared the syringe, but eventually she got it. Not letting herself stop to think about it, knowing that if she did she might just die here, she stabbed it into her wrist and pushed the plunger all the way down.

She sighed. The pain eased, a little bit, almost immediately. Though she was convinced she deserved to suffer, she had to admit that she appreciated the relief anyways. The mix of blood and dust coming from her wrist thickened, solidifying back into flesh for a moment, as if her mistake could be undone so easily. She knew it couldn't be that easy, but her thoughts were cloudy, and she let her hopes be raised. Of course, that just made it more painful when she watched her arm start to drip again. This time, it wasn't blood, it was just everything. What had once been skin, fat, muscle, even the bone was turning to liquid.

She watched her arm slowly melt as if it were a nightmare; detached, distant, yet still terrified. Like she'd observed in all of the patients, her flesh turned white as the pigmentation broke down. Pale, sterile white. Like snow, which made her cold-blooded body sluggish and painful. Like Sans, who she'd been avoiding as her mistakes piled up and her depression deepened. Like her clean white coat, which she knew she didn't deserve, as it was a symbol of someone infinitely more put-together than her.

It was the most karmic thing she'd ever witnessed, she decided, managing a slight bitter laugh. The laugh gave way to a sob, which gave way to choking as the determination and its effects made their way through her body. She used the last of her power to drag her melting body to a wiring closet and shut the door behind her. She had determination poisoning, but she wasn't going to be an amalgamate, because that meant saddling someone else with all of the terrible things that had led her to the point in the first place. She curled up in the small space, feeling utterly alone and praying that it would stay that way. Then she fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm sorry.


End file.
